


Nobody But Me

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Abuse, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Bottom Dean, Dark, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Serial Killer Sam, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7204934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's always been jealous. Since he was a little kid. Nobody touched his Dean. Things escalated as he grew up, but Dean finds it endearing - even when he has to pick up body parts and help his brother burn them.<br/>Written for Wincest Love Week day 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody But Me

Dean winced at the deafening crack of the man’s skull against the concrete. He forced himself to keep watching, ashamed that his cock was getting uncomfortably hard in the tight denim of his jeans as he leaned against the dumpster in the alley.

Sam stomped one more time on the man’s head for good measure – though he was already dead and his head had taken on an eerie flattened look.

Sam approached Dean quickly then and he winced a little, expecting a strike. Instead, Sam fisted his shirt and slammed him against the alley wall, kissing him hard enough that he tasted the copper of his own blood.

Hands were everywhere, and before Dean realized what was happening his face was pressed against the rough brick wall, pants around his ankles. Sam’s face was buried in his ass, licking and biting at his fluttering hole. Dean gave a choked sob, reaching back to bury his fingers in Sam’s hair.

 

His baby brother always got like this; the littlest things set him off from a young age. When Dean was fifteen, a juvenile raccoon had bitten him. He found the raccoon gutted and decapitated a few hours later.

Initially, he didn’t know who’d done such a terrible thing, but he found eleven-year-old Sam nearby, washing blood from his hands. When Dean confronted Sam, his simple response was that nothing was allowed to bite Dean except him.

 

The next time Sam killed for Dean he was thirteen. Dean was seventeen, and had brought home a sweet girl from school to have his way with. He’d incorrectly assumed that Sam was at the library.

Dean had assumed he’d managed to sneak his tryst past Sam, until Sam pushed the dripping cardboard box into his hands, his normally bright eyes filled with angry tears. Inside was the girl’s severed hands.

“She touched you, De. No one’s allowed to touch you but me,” He’d whispered, tears finally spilling over.

Dean gathered Sam into his arms, the disturbing gift forgotten, and allowed Sam to touch him like he deserved.

 

Over the years, Sam had given Dean many ‘gifts’ as punishment: his prom date’s lips for whispering that she loved Dean, Dean’s first boyfriend’s cock for having sex with Dean in a way that nobody but Sam had before, and many others.

 

Of course, the average person would wonder why Dean didn’t have his little brother committed, or just run from him, but the answer was simple for Dean. They were already on the fringes of society with their hunting and their incestuous relationship. For Dean, there was no question that he needed Sam for his survival. His life was incomplete, not worth living, without Sam, even if Sam was a little messed up. Sure, he may have had to burn bodies that weren’t exactly monsters, and he had to clean blood off his body and the interior of their beloved Impala more than once, but he loved Sam in his own way, and he knew that Sam loved him.

 

***

 

So here they were, three apocalypses and a Mark of Cain later, Sam’s got his cock buried to the hilt inside Dean, whispering that he had to do it, begging Dean to understand, the guy looked at Dean wrong, he had to.

Dean reaches around and grabs Sam’s hand, bringing it to his bite swollen lips and pressing a kiss to the bruised knuckles.

“I understand, Sammy. Come on baby boy, fuck me.” He arches against Sam, smiling at the groan ripped from Sam’s throat.

 

Dean’s face is rubbed raw on the brick and his hips are already bruising from the force of Sam’s grip and thrusts by the time they both come, each other’s names whispered on their lips like a secret.

 

***

 

Dean helps Sam clean up the body and scene; he always does, this is his fault anyway, in a way. He’s a flirt and he can’t help it, he forgets sometimes how close Sam watches him.

This guy was a complete accident. Dean and Sam had been dancing in the club, a few too many drinks into them both, and Dean had let himself get carried away.

Sam had noticed the guy first, leering at Dean from across the room. Dean had begged Sam to forget about it, ignore it, but Sam wouldn’t stand for that. No one looked at his Dean like that.

So he started something with the guy, told him to keep his eyes to himself if he knew what was good for him. The man, more drunk than Sam, offered to go outside and settle it – and went one step too far by saying that the winner got to take Dean home and fuck him.

 

***

 

Dean stepped back, allowing Sam to light the match and toss it into the hole they’d dug for the man’s body. He leaned on the hood of the Impala, eyes roaming up and down Sam’s body in the dark.

 

Sure, Sam was a little messed up, and could be a little scary sometimes. But he was Dean’s baby brother. He was Dean’s lover and closest friend, and Dean knew, deep down, that it would take a whole hell of a lot more than a few dead bodies to pull them apart.

 

 

 


End file.
